


to take, and be taken

by lycheees



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Ableist Language, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, M/M, Minor Violence, Pre-Canon, Specifically Misha talking about Pairo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:21:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27031099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lycheees/pseuds/lycheees
Summary: “Something tells me there’s a catch,” another man sneered. “There’s no way you’d sell us one of your own for some measly provisions.”That made Kurapika pause in his tracks.One of your own?
Relationships: Kurapika & Pairo (Hunter X Hunter), Kuroro Lucifer | Chrollo Lucifer & Kurapika, Kuroro Lucifer | Chrollo Lucifer/Kurapika, but they don't end up in the fic itself, it's implied that they end up together, this is just a backstory
Comments: 17
Kudos: 105





	to take, and be taken

**Author's Note:**

> Day 7: villain
> 
> ok but like... imagine villain!kurapika, but like... this is the backstory...

Times were harsh. Winter that year saw the highest level of snowfall in the province of Lukso. The stormy blizzards meant that merchants from outside the province daren’t step in to make trades, and even the gutsiest ones could not bear to stay for more than a few days.

Among the ones who took the shortage of food and blankets the hardest were the people of the Kurta clan, who sent out brave soldiers every day into the forests. A few had died on the short expeditions, their frostbitten bodies dragged along with the firewood. On the days where the snow was a bit milder, they would venture out further into the local town, only to find that the stalls were closed or had run out of goods. They stopped trying after the first few attempts.

Although the dark days never seemed to wane, there came a day when the Kurta clan did not awake to hail running into their windows, or water leaking through their roofs. The Sun was high up in the sky, and the children ran out to play for the first time. The women rushed down to town to grab supplies; the men ran to grab firewood. Everyone else in the area had had the same idea, but there was still enough to last the village for two weeks or so if they stretched the provisions out.

For the children, what else could be on their minds but _snow?_

Next to their houses, Kurapika and Pairo lay in the thick, white blanket, carving out angels with their hands and legs and laughing gleefully to themselves.

“Hey, Kurapika, how does my angel look?”

“Great! But small, like you,” Kurapika hit back with a grin. That earned him a well-aimed snowball on his face, and when he spluttered, Pairo took that as a cue that he’d hit his target and laughed. “Why you—”

They chased each other around, Kurapika always making sure to voice where he was, looking out for trees and boulders as well. It was as if the past few weeks had never happened, as if they hadn’t gone to sleep hungry for some nights. Based on the elders’ predictions, the children knew that days like this would be far and few in between and that the worst had yet to come, but they could not bring themselves to care for the inevitable.

As long as they could play like this in the snow, they would brave the winter hell.

Pairo did eventually fall over. At the sound of his friend’s cry, Kurapika rushed over. But before he could ask if Pairo was alright, where he was hurt, he tasted snow in his mouth, face frozen and schooled to a look promising revenge as Pairo burst out in laughter.

“You little—”

Kurapika settled for pinning Pairo down in the snow, tickling him until his lungs were hot and cold. They wrestled like that for a while, got snow down the back of their shirts and sometimes in their pants before Kurapika spotted something in the distance.

When movement above him ceased, Pairo asked, “Kurapika?”

Kurapika hushed him, squinting to make sure he wasn’t seeing things. In the dense forest next to them, there was the shadowy figure of one of the clan elders, Misha, speaking to a group of men whom Kurapika knew was not local. “Pairo, you wait here.”

“Kurapika, wait! Don’t go looking for trouble!”

Ignoring his friend’s pleas, Kurapika snuck closer to the group of people, careful not to give himself away. While he was no master at the art of secrecy, he’d had his fair share of snooping around whenever there would be fresh gossip amongst the adults and his parents would refuse to tell him the details. A _busybody_ , Pairo called him.

He didn’t need to get too close, considering his blessed hearing. Having been borne of two parents possessing their clan’s trademark eyes, Kurapika’s senses were far sharper than the average person’s. He could also easily take out a normal adult whenever his eyes were activated, though his mother had warned him that he needed to focus on technique lest he got hurt.

In the end, Kurapika hid behind a tall bush. He counted the number of outsiders with Misha—two, four, five in total. Judging from the solemn expressions on their face, they were discussing the bad weather that had taken over the province in the last two weeks or so.

“We’ve got the stuff, old man. It’ll last you throughout the entire year, too,” one of the man said, smugly.

“Thank you, thank you!” Misha cried. Kurapika rolled his eyes. He was always comparing the elder to a goat, what with his wispy white beard and his bleating. On the bright side, it appeared there had been nothing to worry about—in fact, Kurapika was excited about the news. Maybe the old goat was good for something, after all.

“Something tells me there’s a catch,” another man sneered. “There’s no way you’d sell us one of your own for some measly provisions.”

That made Kurapika pause in his tracks.

_One of your own?_

Heart beating in his chest, Kurapika’s brain fought with itself, insisting that no, he’d just heard wrong; the forest was dense which meant sounds were easily distorted and there was a nearby lake that connected to a waterfall and the insects were skittering around and—

“Pairo. He indeed has the Scarlet Eyes, but he’s lost his vision due to a fall, and soon his legs won’t be of much use. His mother has agreed to this, so it will be easy to convince them at the assembly tonight. But don’t worry, his eyes will still activate when he’s angry.”

Now Kurapika’s heart was in his mouth, every beat striking his head like a drum. His vision turned red, his soul tearing itself apart as if he’d overheard plans for the village to betray him, and not Pairo. Sweet, sweet Pairo who had given Kurapika his eyes and legs. Sweet Pairo whom Kurapika swore to find a cure for in the future.

The anger, the desperation, the helplessness—but the last embers of his sanity screamed at him to stay down, that he was no match for the men, six including Misha, if the fight turned out ugly. He didn’t know how many weapons they had with him, only that he had none.

So, he did what was expected of any other 14-year-old: he ran away.

Behind him, he heard the shouts of the men, but he was faster than them, reaching the clearing where he’d left Pairo, grabbing the boy and running away without an explanation. He ignored Pairo’s questions, his brain working faster than his legs, straining his ears to make sure that they hadn’t spotted him, running until he could no longer hear the men in the distance, until they were safe at home.

Pairo’s parents were nowhere to be found. Kurapika was grateful, considering what the elder had said about Pairo’s mother. He had no way of making sure that Misha had been telling the truth, but in the state that he was in, he doubted he had the capacity to make any sane decisions, or guarantee that he wouldn’t open a conversation with Pairo’s mother with his fists.

“Kurapika,” Pairo gasped, catching his breath, sprawled on the ground, “what was that all about?”

He couldn’t tell him. Kurapika didn’t want Pairo feeling like a burden more than he already did. He’d handle it on his own, stick by Pairo for the rest of the day until the assembly, and watch out for anything. There was a little voice in his head that told him to just take Pairo and run away from the village, but he knew that wouldn’t work—not in this weather, and not with what little food they had. Two kids, barely fifteen, would end up dead in no time under six feet of snow, defeating the purpose.

“It’s nothing,” Kurapika said, unconvincingly. His voice was quivering, and he had to bite his tongue to stop himself. “It’s nothing,” he repeated.

Pairo gazed in his direction, tired but worried still, and Kurapika made up his mind there and then—he’d protect Pairo, even at the cost of his life.

*

Kurapika couldn’t risk approaching Misha without a plan of action, but by the time he’d formulated a dozen plans in his head only to discard them, nightfall had come.

The gong resounding from the communal area called for the villagers’ attendance. Kurapika went along with Pairo, sticking close to him and eyeing the adults around them suspiciously. His hunting knife sat heavy, strapped to his back, and he could only hope for the best-case scenario. He carefully guided Pairo towards a tent that was a bit away from the rest of the crowd, but not so distant as to garner suspicions prematurely.

Among the elders, Misha stood unassumingly to the side, stroking that frustrating beard. Immediately, Kurapika’s eyes turned scarlet, and he had to duck his head down and wait for his normal vision to return. If he could just pull the elder to the side so he could provide his suggestion—

“We do not have much time,” the head of the village said, clapping his hands together and distracting Kurapika from his thoughts. “Although this might come as a shock to most of you, we have decided to strike a deal with the outside world in order to secure provisions to last us through winter.”

Immediately, murmurs broke out among the villagers, some expressing disbelief, some agreeing with the action.

Meanwhile, Kurapika felt the pull of every muscle in his body, felt the strength flowing through his blood and down to his hands.

_No. nonono—_

“In fact, it is more than we could hope for,” he continued, oblivious to the inner rage eating the adolescent up, just as Pairo was oblivious to the fate that was decided for him, “all our generous patrons ask of us is that they wish to take in on one of our own, nurture him so that he may thrive in the outside—”

“YOU’RE LYING!”

“Kurapika, what are you—” But all Pairo got was a squeeze of the hand, before he felt Kurapika walk further away from him.

“I overheard your conversation in the forest,” Kurapika hissed, glaring at the elders, in particular at _Misha,_ who stood frozen like a caught deer. “You want to sell Pairo’s _eyes!”_

The murmurs suddenly became louder, shifting in tone. Although most of them were wary of Kurapika’s bad temper, they’d never known the boy to be a liar.

“K-Kurapika, sit down at—”

“I heard Misha earlier on in the forest! He was talking to some guys about giving them Pairo! Telling them that his eyes can still activate as long as they make him angry!”

At the accusation, the air grew cold. The cold was not from the winter, but from the chilling words, that despite all that the elders had preached about how the clan must prioritize unity and preservation, they had been so easily ready to sell a _child_ for food and warmth. This sense of unity that the elders had so carefully cultivated fired back at them, and the gathered villagers were in an uproar, hurling vitriol at the elders in the centre. Among them, Pairo’s own parents were nowhere to be found.

“N-No! None of you understand! We must prioritize the survival of this clan above all—”

“Then why don’t you volunteer yourself?! You barely have ten years left to live!”

The village head spluttered. “That is, I—”

A loud scream pierced through the commotion. Reacting on instinct, Kurapika rushed back to his previous spot where Pairo was biting down on the hand of one of the guards, _hard._

“Pairo, duck!”

On command, Pairo bent his neck lower, hands shielding his head. Kurapika pushed off a platform and delivered a roundhouse kick to the man’s face, forcing him to release Pairo, whom Kurapika’s mother immediately went to embrace. However, it was not the end for Kurapika, who soon found himself surrounded.

“Kurapika! Kurapika, where are you? Are you alright?!” Pairo cried out frantically.

But Kurapika was beside himself with rage, unable to hear much aside from the loud ringing in his ears as his body moved the way he wanted it to, felt the rush of the force behind his punches, watched as the grown men fell, one by one.

Then, in his periphery, he saw another clan member press a cloth against Pairo’s mouth and snatch him away from the arms of Kurapika’s mother, who was held back by her own husband.

It all happened so quickly.

_Pairo._

_Pairo._

_PAIRO!_

The men were rising back up, coming after Kurapika with intent. Before he knew it, Kurapika had unsheathed his dagger, slashing at their vital points. He didn’t check on the bodies as he made a run for the man carrying Pairo away, but the latter didn’t get very far before Kurapika jumped into the air like a panther, flinging his knife down straight into the man’s back.

There was a sick second of silence, and Kurapika landed at the same time the man fell, Pairo’s unconscious body rolling away. He took a deep breath, took a look at Pairo’s unharmed figure, and felt grateful. He scooped the boy up in his arms, wondering why his chest felt so tight, why his hand felt so heavy and _why was his face so wet and warm?_

Slowly, he walked back to camp, ready to apologize to the men he’d just taken down. He would have picked up the man who’d run away with Pairo as well, but Kurapika did not have the strength to carry two people right now, and Pairo was of utmost priority.

Yet, when he got back, the villagers were pale, looking as if they had seen a monster. They trembled in fear, clutching at each other and backing away with every step Kurapika took.

Then it clicked, registering all the eyes on him—

 _He_ was the monster.

But why?

What gave Misha the right to shake in fear, jaw dropped open as he took in Kurapika’s bloody state? What gave the rest of them the right to look at him as if he’d just murdered in cold blood, as if they hadn’t been ready to do just the same?

Or had it all been a setup? Perhaps, Kurapika had been the only one not in on it, and everyone just played up rage to fulfil their part.

The only one to look at him with something other than fear, hatred, _disgust,_ was his own mother, whose eyes shone with relief as she stepped forward to hug both him and Pairo.

“Thank god the both of you are okay.”

Kurapika closed his eyes, leaning into his mother’s scent. “…Yeah.”

But the touching moment was cut short by a loud gruff voice behind him, booming through the quiet space save for the crackle of the fire.

“What’s this? The fight’s started?! Feitan, come out, you little cheater!”

On instinct, Kurapika side-stepped in alarm, his mother’s embrace following him. The intruder was not one of their own. He towered over everyone in the communal area, looking more beast than man with his wild hair and crazed smile, filled with so much bloodlust that it snapped Kurapika out of his trance. Before he could inquire who the man was, however, more figures stepped forward from the shadows.

Ten, to be exact.

“Shut up, Uvogin. I only took out the boring ones waiting in the forest just now,” a small man in black hissed, presumable this Feitan person.

“Relax, no one cheated.”

The man who said so was an unassuming man. That, or maybe it was in the way his companions seemed to angle themselves towards him, giving him centre spot, but this man stuck out the most to Kurapika. He wore a long black turtleneck, skin bluish pale, a symbol of a cross adorning his forehead.

He was the most dangerous of the lot.

Every other villager held their breath, waiting for the group of newcomers to explain themselves. Not even the elders seemed to know who they were, as terrified as they were confused.

But all the leader—at least, Kurapika assumed him to be—did was look around, eyes flitting from their homes to their faces, almost as if searching for something, before they landed on Kurapika’s defensive figure.

“You.”

Kurapika tensed, poised to attack despite his mother’s protests.

“You killed them, didn’t you?”

Kurapika’s blood ran cold. For the very first time in the last ten minutes, he allowed his eyes to witness his work — deep bloody wounds in all the men’s bodies, whether it had been a slash through the neck or a stab in the gut. Worse still, he could place a name on all of them, even as their faces twisted away from him, dead.

The man was waiting for Kurapika’s answer, but the shocked look on the latter’s face must have been an answer enough. “All six? That’s impressive.”

“Seven,” the big man — Uvogin — said, hurling up the dead figure he was holding onto. The knife was still embedded in him, and when he pulled it out to give back to Kurapika, the boy was in too much shock to do anything but accept it.

“Seven is all we need, right?” one girl asked, black hair, black shirt, black rim of glasses. Her face was too innocent to belong to whatever group they were supposed to be, and they did _not_ look like a good group.

“Indeed,” their leader said, looking at the corpses. “Check their eyes.”

The villagers could do naught as the strangers poked and prodded the bodies of their fallen brethren, parting their eyelids to confirm that they, did in fact, all have the Scarlet Eyes.

“Wait, boss,” another girl spoke up, all pastel as if to contrast her friend, and confirming Kurapika’s speculation about the man’s position in the group. “Didn’t you want one for yourself?”

“I’d just planned to get all of them, but seeing as exactly seven fell into our lap…” the leader trailed off, directing his attention to Kurapika once again. Despite his mother’s efforts to calm him down and not aggravate the enemy, Kurapika acted like a frayed nerve, sensitive to everything around him. He held the stranger’s gaze, ready to fight even knowing he had no chance to win.

And then the stranger turned away.

Immediately, Kurapika called out, “Wait!”

The rest of them had casually slid the dead bodies into rucksacks, throwing the weight over their shoulders. They observed Kurapika, without malice or curiosity. They just watched, as if humouring the child.

Kurapika swallowed. Whatever he had planned, this was not part of it. Yet, he could see no other way, not when his village men looked at him the same way they looked at the leader of this mysterious group: afraid.

There was no place for Kurapika within the Kurta clan anymore.

“Let me join you.”

Around them, silence fell. Quickly, Kurapika’s mother was the first to recover. “Kurapika, are you crazy?! Come back here, these people will—”

“Very well,” the leader said, looking down at Kurapika with an almost bored interest.

“Boss, are _you_ crazy?” _Feitan_ croaked, standing closer to Pairo’s height than Kurapika’s but emitting a level of danger that left the latter even more nervous.

“Please! He’s a _child._ I don’t know why you’ve come or if you’re related to—”

“Mom, it’s okay,” Kurapika chirped, voice wavering and on the verge of tears. “You said so yourself, right? That I should go and explore the outside world.”

“Not like this,” his mother sobbed, and her heartbreaking cries tore through Kurapika, deeper than any physical wound could, “not like this, what could I possibly tell Pairo?!”

“That I’ll be back,” Kurapika said, his shoulders set firm. He knew that he had to leave, knew that he wasn’t welcome in this village anymore. “I love you. And tell Pairo I haven’t forgotten our promise.”

Chin tucked in, bangs covering his eyes to conceal the wetness, Kurapika marched on. He didn’t deserve a place here, even if what he’d done had been for Pairo. At this rate, he wasn’t sure if he _wanted_ to stay. Humiliation and disgust at himself welled up like a tidal wave, consuming him until he didn’t know who he was anymore.

Kurapika. A son. A friend.

A _murderer._

His only regret would be that he was unable to say goodbye to Pairo, but Kurapika knew he couldn’t stay any longer, couldn’t wait even another hour. He knew it was for the best, yet his footsteps were heavy in the snow as he followed the shadows out.

Behind him, he heard his mother ask, voice softer as the snow started to fall harder, “Who _are_ you?”

There was a rough touch on Kurapika’s head, ruffling his hair. When he looked up, it was Uvogin, smile still dangerous and full of teeth, yet welcoming.

The leader — Chrollo Lucilfer, Kurapika was soon to find out — gave but a cryptic message.

“We accept everything, so take nothing back.”

*

It was not until his later years of being a renowned member of the Phantom Troupe, having earned a Class A bounty on his head, that Kurapika came to understand what that phrase had meant at that point in time. In those years, he would have had met two young children and a doctor-to-be around his age, whom Kurapika eventually brought back to cure Pairo.

Though their reunion was short and sweet, Kurapika promised to return.

“We should stay together, like the old times!” Pairo insisted. In a few years, he would be set to take the Hunter exam. Killua and Gon had been nice enough to offer to… ‘train’ him; Kurapika had specifically told Killua that voltage resistance was _not_ to be added to the regimen.

Kurapika laughed, feet dangling over the cliff. He tucked a strand of hair behind his ear, the glow of the sunset basking the spider tattoo on his hand in gold. “For the last time, you are _not_ joining the spiders.”

“Eh… why not?” Pairo _tsked_ , having had his motives seen through. He didn’t pester, however. They were adults now, after all, and Chrollo was a nice enough lover to let him go wherever and whenever Kurapika pleased, which meant there was no shortage of time that Kurapika could spend with his childhood friend.

_So long as you return to me._

“Say, Kurapika.”

“Hm?”

Pairo looked to Kurapika, a smile on his face. “Was it fun?”

The responding smile that bloomed on Kurapika’s face felt silly, even to himself.

“Yeah. Loads of fun.”

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. The Troupe walking in on them that night was pure coincidence.
> 
> 2\. Pairo tells Kurapika that he's grateful for all he's done and that he doesn't think of him as a monster for killing all those guys to save him
> 
> 3\. THE PROMPT WAS VILLAIN BUT THE ENDING IS TOO FLUFFY


End file.
